Sunset on the Water
by lead me to salvation
Summary: Miscellaneous drabbles. Kitty tries a new food, Miles takes a birthday card way too seriously, Tom arrives at the hospital amid cases of a certain interesting provision and others. Will be added to as I write more.
1. Haggis

**I. Haggis**

When she gets home from work one evening, there's a fire already crackling orange and gold in the grate and their best crockery is laid out on the table. "Tom?" she calls cautiously, hanging her key on the back of the door.

He appears from the bedroom, a smile cracking his face wide. "Hello, love. How was your day?"

"Good, thank you," she says, draping her coat across the back of one of the chairs and leaning against him as he laces his arms around her waist. "You've been busy."

"I know." His breath sends little shivers fluttering down her spine as he presses hisses along her jawline. "Would you like to sit down, and I'll get dinner off the stove."

She nods and he pulls out a chair for her, and turns to take an unidentifiable round object from the stove which is quickly hidden from her view as he puts it on the side. "How did you get back so early?" she asks idly, noticing the way his fair hair is raggedy at the back, some bits a little longer than others as though he's not lingered long enough on the cutting of it.

"My operation was quicker than expected, so they gave me the rest of the afternoon off. I had to write the report, but it's an easy one so it shouldn't take too long." He turns around with two plates in his hands, putting one in front of her. She stares at it – brown, grainy, slightly burnt-looking – is that oats in there?

Thomas watches her for a second, then laughs, the sound bubbling over his lips and warming the air in the kitchen in the way no fire or stove ever could. "Don't look so suspicious, Kitty."

"What is it?"

"Haggis with neaps and tatties. It's Burns Day today, so I thought I'd do something festive."

"Haggis," Kitty echoes, poking the slices of it with her fork. "What's in it, Tom, it looks…"

"Disgusting?" he supplies dryly. "I'm not telling you until you've tried it or you won't eat it."

Kitty slants him a look, wondering what on earth he means by that comment, then picks up the tiniest portion and puts it in her mouth. It's spicy, slightly sour, meaty, but the intriguing taste sinks into her tongue and she picks up a bigger bit, and before she knows it, she's finished her whole plate.

Thomas' is already clean, and he's leaning back in his chair, amusement sparking from his blue eyes. She dabs daintily at her lips with a napkin. "So are you going to tell me what was in it?"

"Oats," he says, a devilish smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Oats, lamb offals – so heart, lungs, liver – onions and suet, all cooked in a sheep's stomach."

Bile rises hot in her throat, and she stares at him. "Tom…that's truly _vile._"

He laughs again. "But you liked it, didn't you?"

She smiles, and then he's standing and wrapping his arms around her, and kissing her again until she feels like a cloud floating away into the great blue unknown. "Alright," she admits when they finally break apart. "Yes, I liked it."


	2. Barefoot in the Sunshine

**II. Barefoot in the Sunshine**

When Kitty gets in from dropping Sylvie off at school, she walks into a hurricane.

"When I got you that card for your birthday, I didn't mean for you to take it so seriously!"

"It speaks great wisdom!" Miles points an accusing finger at Thomas who is pushing papers into his briefcase, irritated. Kitty stifles a laugh as she watches the conflicting emotions scatter across his face like the wind scudding clouds across a threadbare sky.

"You need to grow up! You're thirty-five and thirty-five year olds…Kitty! Surely you're on my side in all of this?"

She tries not to smile. "What even is it you're arguing about this time?"

Miles pushes a card across the table and there is a moment of frozen silence as she reads it, quietly mouthing the words. _Let's plant grass seeds in our shoes and paint the insides of our hats yellow so even when it's cold and raining we'll feel like we're walking barefoot in the sunshine. _She looks up at them. "I think it's a great idea."

Thomas groans. "I'm going to work." He beats a hasty retreat, giving them both a kiss goodbye and ducking out of the door.

"He has no sense of imagination," Miles says.

But even Thomas has to smile when there comes a rainy day and Kitty has made him go to fetch milk from the corner shop, because when he slides on his shoes, grass tickles his bare feet and when he opens the umbrella, the inside is painted gold so it really does feel like he's walking barefoot through a summer's day.

* * *

**A/N **My first Mitmas! Proud of me? This is just a quick note to say I will be updating The Siren's Call as soon as is humanely possibly, but chapter eight is quite a difficult chapter to write, and I want to get everything just right before I post it. I'll try and get it up before the weekend, and I'm really sorry for the long wait! N xx


	3. Allium Sativum

**III. Allium Sativum**

It was the smell that confused him. When he first got on the transport under a lavender blue sky at Boulogne it was barely there and he took no notice of it, but as the journey drew on it permeated the air around him and he could not put his finger on it. It seemed to be emanating from the packing cases piled around him, but he didn't dare open them to see what on earth it was.

When he finally arrived at Hospital 25A, he was glad to escape into the unseasonably warm weather, tatty old carpet-bag in hand, and follow the orderly towards the Commanding Officer's hut. The smell still clung to the uniform he put on at the harbour and as he enters the hut, the man standing behind the desk wrinkled his nose before ironing his expression smooth. "Captain Thomas Gillan?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

The man's face cracked into a smile and he extended a hand for Thomas to shake. "Lieutenant-Colonel Roland Brett. It's wonderful to have you."

"Thank you, sir."

"I've arranged for your tent-mate to show you the ropes this afternoon, then you can begin work in the morning when our next convoy arrives."

"Yes, sir."

There's an echoing knock at the door. "Come in!" the Colonel calls. The wooden slatted door creaked open and Thomas froze in shock. There, on the threshold is…

"Tom! What are you doing here?"

The Colonel looked from one to the other, confused. "Hesketh-Thorne, do you know Captain Gillan?"

"We went to medical school together, sir," Miles said, and Thomas fought the smile intent on sprawling itself across his face. Of all the people to find here…

"Right, well. Hesketh-Thorne – if you would be so kind as to get Captain Gillan settled in?"

"Of course, sir." Miles opened the door, white and gold sunlight streaming in and making Thomas blink. "Right this way."

"You should have written and told me you were coming," Miles said accusingly as soon as they were a safe distance down the boardwalk.

"I didn't know which hospital I'd be posted to," Thomas replied, looking around him at the orderlies carrying stretchers, the nurses bustling about in their smart grey uniforms, hundreds of people working as the limbs of one huge organism.

"You're forgiven, then," Miles grinned at him. "Look over there – that's Matron Beaulieu, I'll introduce you to her later, and the two nurses we've just passed are Sister Carter and Sister Quayle. They're both pretty senior and whatever you do, never cross Sister Quayle, she's very influential. By the way, Tom, why do you smell of garlic?"

"Garlic?"

"Have you been trying to ward off vampires or something? I didn't realise that there were any in Scotland, though I might have been mistaken…"

"Miles." He rolled his eyes, part exasperated and part pleased that someone has finally told him what that bloody smell is. "There were lots of packing cases on the transport with me – obviously full of garlic. It's an antiseptic, remember?"

Miles shook his head. "You know I fell asleep during that lecture. You'd better have a visit to the wash tent before I take you onto the wards – you really do stink!"

* * *

**A/N **This one is based on a true fact that I found out at The Garlic Farm on the Isle of Wight. Apparently the British Army ordered 100 tonnes of garlic during WW1 because it was such a good antiseptic and so good for people! Prompts are most welcome! N xxx


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